However…
And it was a big however. Last night she came to the conclusion that he did truly see her. Seeing her inventions, knowing her mind, and her body, in the way he had experienced her last night, well, truthfully no one knew her in those two combined ways. And only she knew her body. Until last night when she had instigated the most delightfully mischievous experiment she had ever attempted.
She couldn’t help it. Her hands practically flew to his groin when the ink had spilled. And then when she had witnessed the physical reaction they had produced, well, she couldn’t help playing with the variable a bit more.
It was easy enough to swat his hands away while he was distracted by the two men in the room. But then, the bulge had kept growing to the point that her insides were screaming at her to see it.
All in the name of science of course.
Until it wasn’t.
When his cock had sprung free, something inside of her achieved a new level of freedom. His manhood beckoned to her womanhood, and she knew then that the experimenting was going to take on a life of its own.
What she didn’t know, was how much that experimenting would bond her to him. It was a byproduct of the physical reaction she had been so keen on observing.
Her release had washed over her, bathing her like a baptism, as if she had become a new woman. She steeled herself to remain as composed as possible, but the slight contact from his solid chest, and the warm breath from his mouth almost had her undone.
So now that the solid-chested, warm-breathed duke was asking her father for her hand in marriage, she should be preparing to say yes. If only so she could be saying a lot more yesses in the future with him.
But it wasn’t enough. She needed to know that her freedom would not be infringed upon. She needed to know she could be her own woman, pursuing her inventions, riding the Glider.
Bridget sat in the drawing room, mindlessly sipping her tea, when her mother entered. “Bridget dear, the Duke of Whitewood, has asked for a moment with you in private. Are you ready for that?”
She glanced upward at her mother. The mother who knew her heart and encouraged her to be her true self at all times. If anyone would understand, she would.
“I’m ready, Mother. But are you and Father ready if I reject his offer?”
Her mother glided over, swishing her skirts as she went. “My dear, girl. There is no pressure to say yes, merely because he is a duke. The only reason to say yes, is to follow your heart.”
“I’ve only known the man a few days. I haven’t had time to conduct any–many–experiments.” Drumming her fingers on her tea cup, she hoped her mother did not analyze that sentence too much. “I haven’t had enough time to observe him and make up my mind.” Which was true. Her body was made up. Her heart was pretty close, but her mind wasn’t convinced yet. She just needed some incontrovertible proof that he would let her fully be herself in a marriage with him.
“I shall support you regardless of your answer to the duke. You are my heart.” Her mother rubbed her shoulder and then leaned down to give her daughter a short embrace. As she did so, she whispered, “You must know that. And you must expect that out of your husband as well.”
Just then, Arthur was announced.
Olivia left the room after one more shoulder pat and a glance back with a nod from the doorway.
“Lady Bridget, as you must know by now, I’ve asked your father for your hand in marriage.” He looked dashing in his navy jacket and matching waistcoat. Part of her was curious to see what kind of reaction she could get out of him if she walked over and untied that stuffy cravat though.
“My parents found love instantly and had a beautiful marriage. I always knew I would have the same fate. And,” he cleared his throat, “though I’ll admit to resisting the moment, I believe from the moment I saw you I was mesmerized. Will you marry me?”
That’s it? That’s all he had to say? Where was the love? Oh no, if he was not in love, then surely she was not. This would not do.
“I regret to decline your offer, as gracious as it is.”
A pensive look stole over his face as he peered at her. He didn’t just see through her spectacles, he saw them and liked them. He saw the spectacles for what they were and the part of her they formed. He saw them. He saw her. And she was pretty sure he liked what he saw.
But she was also pretty sure he didn’t love what he saw. For if he did, he would know, intuitively, how to handle her. And a simple proposal with no meaning behind it, was not how to handle her.
“I have to admit my surprise. But I will also confess that I’m a determined man. When I see something I like, I do persist. I fear I shall send you flowers and gifts until you change your mind.”
She couldn’t have felt more validated in her rejection offer. Flowers? Gifts?Something I like? Exactly. That was her point. She didn’t need to spell it out for him.
“I fear those gestures will not sway me.”
“I shall attempt the impossible then.”
“By all means.”
